


Vendetta

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revenge is a dish best served cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vendetta

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with Wendy Parkinson.
> 
> Originally posted in: TAKING FLIGHT: TALES FROM THE PEGASUS GALAXY  
> A STARGATE ATLANTIS FANZINE; THE SJHW & FRIENDS 
> 
> Volume Two, May 2007

VENDETTA

Claire had dreamt of this moment for so long that now when the time had finally arrived, her hands trembled so badly that she almost spilled the entire ampoule. Cursing softly under her breath, she set the needle and syringe back down and took a deep breath. She couldn’t fail now, not when it had cost her so much to get this far.

“Claire?” 

She almost dropped the ampoule again when Doctor Beckett called her name. Forcing a smile to her face, Claire turned and carefully set the precious ampoule down and faced the doctor. “Yes, sir?”

“I’m finished with Colonel Sheppard now.” The doctor smiled and handed her the Colonel’s chart. “He’s all yours.”

Claire felt a rush of warmth at the doctor’s words; the unsuspecting man was correct on so many levels. She smiled and nodded, clutching the chart. Colonel John Sheppard was finally hers. She waited until Beckett walked away, leaving her alone in the medication galley. Dropping the chart down on the counter, Claire didn’t even bother to look and see what orders the doctor had written, it didn’t matter.

With renewed confidence, Claire finished drawing up the contents of the ampoule into the syringe. Recapping the needled, she placed the innocuous looking syringe on a small tray. Opening one of the cabinets, she placed several alcohol prep pads on the tray. As she closed the door, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass. She still felt a brief moment of shock whenever she saw her reflection, though she’d looked this way for the last ten years. Ten long years spent establishing herself with the Air Force, garnering promotions, transfers and higher and higher security clearances until she’d finally obtained the leverage she needed to get a coveted assignment on Atlantis. 

Brown contacts darkened her normally blue eyes, her hair dyed a mousy ash blonde and pulled back in an unflattering pony tail. She was thinner than she had been and she hoped that, along with the other changes and the passing of years, would be enough. Her reflection smiled wryly at her reminding her that she really needn’t worry on that count, John Sheppard wouldn’t remember her. In all the time she’d known him, he’d only had eyes for Julia. 

“Nurse?”

Claire closed her eyes on a fresh wave of pain. Even though she’d been on Atlantis for a month, this was the first time Sheppard had been in the infirmary and it surprised her that after all the intervening years, she immediately recognized his voice. Grabbing the tray, she forced a smile on her face. “Be right with you, Colonel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One month later

“Doesn’t look like much.”

John had to agree with Ronon’s assessment. The ruins spread out before them looked almost prehistoric; the overgrowth from the jungle almost complete, vines and greenery practically obscuring what he could only guess were the remnants of stone structures. The scene looked so primeval, he almost expected to see a T. Rex and a Stegosaurus emerge out of the thick undergrowth and start to battle one another.

“It may not look like much,” McKay countered, staring intently at the read-out on his scanner, “but there is an energy signature…” he swiveled around in his seat on the jumper and pointed across the bow to the left, “…coming from over there.” He looked up, a triumphant smile on his face. “And it definitely bears the signature of Ancient technology. Well worth taking the time to check out since that’s the whole reason we came here.”

John grinned. “Don’t worry Rodney, we’ll check out your mysterious energy signature.” Unbuckling the safety harness, John stood and stretched; the rest of his team followed suit, gathering and donning their gear in preparation for leaving the jumper. “Anything look familiar?” John addressed his question to Ronon.

From the rear of the jumper, the long tails of Ronon’s coat fluttered around him when he turned, even in the confines of the jumper his hand never hovering too far from his stunner. “No,” he replied, with a shrug. “I’ve never been here.”

John nodded, not really expecting a different answer. Back on Atlantis they’d already established that the planet’s gate address was unfamiliar to the Athosians and John could see why. It didn’t look like anyone had been to this planet in a very, very long time and he had started to wonder whether any of the planets the Daedalus had earmarked as potential on its last survey were going to amount to anything. So far teams had been sent to five different worlds with nothing to show for their troubles; he really hoped they weren’t on another wild goose chase. 

Seeing that everyone was geared up, John made a final adjustment on his P-90 and activated the control to open the rear hatch.

“Anytime,” McKay commented, mild annoyance coloring his tone when the hatch remained firmly closed.

Teyla gave him a curious look and John frowned, pressing the control again; this time the ship responded, but it seemed almost sluggish, as if the ship had to think about whether it wanted to obey him and like a recalcitrant child, finally decided to comply. 

“At last, thank you,” McKay said to no one in particular when the hatch opened, Ronon and Teyla following the eager scientist out of the jumper. Filing the incident away, John followed after his team and decided he’d ask Zelenka to run a complete diagnostic on the ship once they were back at Atlantis.

The whole primordial jungle theme was intensified once they stepped outside the jumper, the heat and oppressive humidity slamming into them like a wall. “Whoa,” John commented, already feeling the sweat start to form on his body. “Guess we should have checked the weather report.”

“It feels nice,” Teyla commented idly, her casual comment belied by the slow circle she made, eyes and body alert.

“Hold on a second there, Rodney,” John called to McKay, who in apparent oblivion to the heat, was already moving into the large clearing of ruins. Ronon had already taken off his great coat, tossing it into the rear of the jumper. 

“Might as well get comfortable,” he grinned. 

“Might as well,” John agreed. His jacket joined Ronon’s in the jumper, quickly followed by Teyla’s. “Rodney?”

“What?” McKay looked up from the scanner. “Oh, right,” he said. “Good idea,” he added, handing the scanner to Teyla and shrugging out of his jacket. Taking the scanner back from Teyla, he started walking through the thick grass into the ruins.

“Watch out for snakes,” John called to him.

“And spiders,” Ronon added, with a sly grin, before heading slowly towards the periphery of the clearing.

“Right, whatever.” McKay’s voice carried back to them. 

John didn’t miss Teyla’s slight eye roll as she strode past him, hurrying to catch up with the eager scientist. John followed at a more leisurely pace, confident in the ability of his team to protect their wayward scientist. 

~~~~ 

Rodney kept his eyes glued to the scanner as he strode purposefully through the ruins, glancing up occasionally to get his bearings. This had to be worth investigating – there was a definite energy signature that was getting stronger the closer they got to the bulk of the ruins.

He cursed under his breath when the sweat on his hand made his fingers slip on the scanner as he tried to fine tune the controls. It had to be somewhere round here…. Yes, to the right…

Looking up, he found himself in front of the remains of a small building, a little more intact than most of the others. Single storey, with a roof still in place, it was tucked away in the corner of the clearing, almost obscured by creepers. “It’s in there,” he announced to his teammates, as he headed straight for its open door.

“Oh, no, Rodney…. Let me have a look first,” said Sheppard, jogging a few steps to get in front of the impatient scientist, his P90 at the ready. 

McKay rolled his eyes. “I can look after myself, you know.”

A noise that sounded suspiciously like a snigger made him swing round and glare at Ronan.

“What?” he demanded.

The taller man grinned. “Nothing. Just clearing my throat.”

Teyla smiled. “The energy source, Doctor McKay?”

Rodney frowned and followed John into the building. He stood still for a moment, blinking as his eyes got used to the lower level of light. Sheppard was standing on the other side of the room, looking around cautiously, though McKay wasn’t sure what he was looking for as the room had no doors other than the entrance, and the walls and floor were bare. The only thing of interest was a waist-high, carved stone pillar in the center of the room.

He pointed his scanner at it. “It’s in there,” he said quietly, approaching the pillar. The elaborate carvings had to be some sort of language, but not one he could read. Tucking the scanner in his pocket, he frowned and ran his hands over the top of the column, searching for inspiration. There was a power source inside this thing but he had no idea how to get at it.

“Well, Rodney?” drawled Sheppard.

“Give me a minute,” snapped back McKay. Trying to think, he found himself running his finger over a particularly elaborate swirling symbol. He jumped back when the symbol suddenly sank down into the column and a low humming noise began emanating from somewhere beneath them.

“Rodney?” Sheppard sounded worried.

McKay whipped the scanner back out of his pocket and punched a few buttons. His mouth fell open.

“Oh.”

“This doesn’t sound good, McKay…”

Rodney looked up from the scanner. “There’s a massive power build up. The readings are increasing exponentially…”

“So it would be wise to leave?” asked Teyla.

“Very wise,” agreed Rodney, turning and heading for the door without giving the others chance to reply. As soon as he was outside, he broke into a run and made straight for the jumper.

John caught up with him and tugged on his arm, slowing him down. “You activated some kind of booby trap?”

“Not on purpose!” Rodney gasped, tugging impatiently at his arm.

Sheppard released him when Teyla and Ronon caught up with them. “The end result is the same. How long do you think we’ve got?”

“No idea at all.” The ground began to vibrate under their feet. “But I’d recommend getting out of here as quickly as possible.”

A low rumbling, like distant thunder filled the air, getting louder and more insistent the closer they got to the jumper. Rodney reached the jumper ahead of the others and smacked his hand against the door control; the door opened immediately and they quickly climbed in, all of them glancing nervously over their shoulders as the door closed behind them.

John threw his pack and weapon on the floor and got into the pilot’s seat, placing his hands on the controls. Rodney sat down next to him and frowned anxiously. “We don’t need to leave it until the absolute last minute for dramatic effect, Colonel. No-one’s going to think any less of you if we leave now. “

Sheppard shook his head. “I’m trying to… It just won’t respond.” He looked at Rodney, his features strained. “It’s malfunctioning. Your department, I think.”

Rodney twitched as the humming vibration increased; now he could feel it through the floor of the jumper. They really didn’t want to be on the ground—and preferably not on the planet—when that thing blew. He pulled out his scanner and did a quick diagnostic of the jumper.

“I can’t see anything wrong. It’s fully powered up and ready to go.”

“But the controls are dead,” snapped Sheppard, still poking and prodding at the various silent controls.

Teyla cleared her throat. “Doctor McKay? Why don’t you try?” Her normally calm voice carried an unfamiliar tone of urgency. “Flying the jumper is a very inexact science, is it not? Perhaps it will respond to a different person?”

Rodney glanced at John, who raised his hands clear of the controls, indicating Rodney should try; though by the expression on his face, he apparently didn’t expect him to have any success.

Frowning, Rodney placed his hands on the console and concentrated. The jumper immediately sprang into life and lurched a few feet into the air.

Sheppard stared at him in disbelief. “How the hell did you do that?” 

Rodney turned to face him, his mouth open, ready to tell Sheppard exactly how incompetent he thought he was, when the jumper wobbled violently.

“Concentrate!” shouted Sheppard and Ronan together.

McKay nodded nervously and stared straight ahead, his brow furrowed in concentration. The jumper lifted slowly off the ground and into the air and he felt a surge of relief. Once they were above the trees, he turned it and headed for the Stargate, his confidence with piloting the jumper increasing with every mile that brought them closer to the Stargate and safety.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m telling you,” John protested quite loudly to the group crowded around the bed where he sat. “There is nothing wrong with me! Ouch!”

Beckett jabbed him with the needle and proceeded to fill several tubes with blood. “Let me be the judge of that, Colonel.”

John frowned and obediently held pressure over the cotton ball Beckett placed over the small wound when he was finished. “There’s something wrong with that jumper.”

Elizabeth’s expression was troubled. “Zelenka’s initial diagnostic shows all systems are functioning properly, John.”

“Well, he needs to dig deeper then.” John knew he sounded like a petulant child, but dammit, they’d almost had their goose cooked on that planet because of the jumper malfunction. 

“That may be,” Teyla replied calmly, “but it still doesn’t explain why Rodney was able to fly the jumper and you were not.”

John didn’t like the way this whole conversation was going. He’d show them once and for all that the problem wasn’t with him. Jumping off the bed, he pushed his way past Ronon and Teyla, heading out into the hall way and making a beeline for one of hidden elevators in the city. 

“John!” Elizabeth called. He didn’t turn around, but he could hear them following after him. It wasn’t that far and when he reached the control panel, he ran his hand over it, stepping back and waiting for the door to slide open. Nothing happened, he placed his hand directly on the panel; it felt cold and lifeless under his hand. “I don’t understand,” he murmured, a sick feeling of dread filling his stomach.

“John.” Elizabeth’s hand was gentle on his arm. “Come back to the infirmary and let Carson finish his tests. We’ll get this figured out.”

He nodded, his hand sliding down the wall and ignoring the concerned looks from his friends, strode down the hall back to the infirmary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Am I glad to see you,” Monica exclaimed, adding a dramatic sigh to her greeting.

Claire smiled and looked around the quiet infirmary. “Long day?” she asked, holding out her hand for the keys.

Monica grinned and dropped them into her hand. “Deadly dull, all except for the excitement this morning when Sheppard’s team came in hot.”

“Yeah?” Claire asked, keeping her voice cool and picking up the duty clipboard.

Apparently deciding she had time to gossip, Monica sat on the edge of the desk. “Yeah, had everyone in quite an uproar too. Weir was even down here!”

“Really?” Claire put down the clipboard. “Was someone hurt?”

Monica shook her head and leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with suppressed excitement. “It’s all very hush-hush and you can’t say a word to anyone, but something is wrong with Sheppard. He can’t operate any of the Ancient technology. Beckett drew a ton of blood and ordered a whole shitload of tests. The poor boy spent most of the day down here getting poked, prodded and x-rayed before Beckett finally let him leave.” 

“Wow.” Claire suppressed her glee and adopted what she hoped was an appropriately sober tone. “Do they know what’s wrong?”

Monica shook her head again. “Beckett’s been holed up in his lab all day.” She jerked her head toward the back of the main wardroom. “Still in there.”

The door to the lab was closed, but she could see the faint glow of light from under it. “Anyway,” Monica grabbed her tote bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “He’s not to be disturbed unless there’s an emergency.”

Claire nodded, trailing after Monica as she walked toward the exit. “Have a nice evening.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Claire closed the door after Monica and only then did she allow herself to smile. So, it had started. And sooner than she’d expected. Claire frowned and glanced toward the closed lab door. The biggest unknown in her plan had turned out to be Beckett; she had to grudgingly admit the man was a genius when it came to virology and genetic engineering. Erica had always joked that she was the only person who would be able to detect the virus, but then she had never met Carson Beckett. Oh well, she decided pragmatically with a glance at the closed door, she’d cross that bridge when—and if—she ever got to it. 

Humming softly, Claire grabbed the clipboard and started making her rounds, stopping at the crash cart first. Better make sure all the equipment was working in case poor Colonel Sheppard got worse, a thought that almost had her giggling as she dutifully filled out the checklist and tested the defibrillator. Jotting down that the defibrillator performed as expected, Claire sighed, her thoughts drifting back. Poor Erica…she had truly loved her and it had nearly broken her heart when the other woman had discovered the real reason she had sought her out and befriended her. But she loved Julia more and nothing was going to stop her from exacting revenge on John Sheppard, not even the woman she loved

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Carson peered down the microscope and blinked, trying to focus his tired eyes. No, it was no good, he decided, he was going to have to have a break. Slowly straightening up, he groaned when his back protested at the movement. He glanced up at the clock on the lab wall. No wonder he felt tired and stiff—he’d been at this for six hours and he’d gotten precisely nowhere.

He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, trying to work out some of the kinks, and walked over to the kettle. Perhaps a cup of tea would help. It was certainly worth a try—nothing else he’d done had got him anywhere. Puffing out his cheeks, he filled the kettle and switched it on. Then he dropped a tea bag in a mug and leant heavily on the edge of the counter, staring at the kettle, willing it to boil.

He’d checked for viruses, bacteria and any obvious anomalies and come up totally empty. He poured the boiling water into his mug, and idly stirred it with a spoon while he thought. Perhaps it wasn’t Sheppard after all… perhaps it was the Ancients’ technology. Yes, he decided as the kettle clicked off, that had to be it. There must be something Rodney and Zelenka had missed. Sheppard was fine… as fit as a flea. And he could stop looking for a needle in a haystack.

Carson had just sat down with his cup of tea when the lab door burst open and Rodney marched in.

“You’ve come to tell me you’ve found the problem with the technology, haven’t you?” asked Carson, hopefully.

Rodney stopped dead in his tracks and blinked at the Doctor. “Why should I do that?”

“Because I can’t find anything wrong with Sheppard, so it’s the logical conclusion.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, Carson. I’ve come to tell you we’ve spent the last few hours getting guinea pigs… er… I mean volunteers to test various bits of Ancient technology.” 

“And?” Beckett really didn’t like where this appeared to be heading.

Rodney looked up at the ceiling, licked his lips and began counting on his fingers. “I checked Read, Nixon, Lorne, Foster and Davies. They could all work the jumper controls—though remind me never to let Read near a jumper again, he almost flew the thing straight through a closed hatchway—and the elevator in the hallway just outside.” He gestured over his shoulder towards the door, by way of explanation.

Carson frowned. “But have they all had the therapy?”

Rodney shook his head. “Only Read, Nixon and Foster. Lorne and Davies have the gene naturally.”

Beckett’s heart sank. “So it’s Sheppard that’s got the problem?”

Rodney nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I came to see you. This is officially all yours, Carson. I’m washing my hands of it.” He yawned. “I’m going to bed. Night…” He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

Carson watched Rodney leave and sighed to himself. So it was time to get back to the drawing board… 

~~~~~~ 

Sheppard slapped the book closed with a loud crack. No matter what he did, he couldn’t concentrate. Since Carson had let him leave the infirmary, he’d been trying to relax, but to no avail. He’d watched TV, listened to music, and finally he’d lain down on his bed and tried to read, but the words just swam before his eyes. 

All he could think about were the consequences of not being able to operate Ancient technology. He’d never be able to fly a jumper again. They’d probably send him home, because as things stood, he was completely useless. The only reason he’d even gotten this assignment was because of his funky DNA and he didn’t even want to think about what would happen to him if he was reassigned because of this. He’d be stuck back on some backwater base on Earth doing nothing of significance. He liked it on Atlantis; he liked the people and he even liked fighting the Wraith, if it was possible to like something like that. 

Sighing deeply, he put his book down and scooted over to the edge of his bed. He swung his legs over the edge and onto the floor, and had just started to get to his feet, when he felt a sudden rush of dizziness, and found himself sitting back down abruptly.

“What the…?” he muttered to himself, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass. When it had, he took a deep breath and got to his feet, more slowly this time. That’s better, he thought, I must have stood up too fast – I’m more tired than I thought. Or I’m hungry. He tried to think—when was the last time he’d eaten? Realizing he really couldn’t remember, he headed for the dining hall.

His footsteps echoed down the corridors as he made his way through Atlantis. He liked the place at night, it gave you chance to think and clear your head. He often went for a walk in the small hours, down the empty corridors, and never saw a soul. Approaching an elevator, he wondered whether to try the controls, after all, the problem might only be temporary. 

He stood in front of the elevator, a curious indecisiveness filling him. Did he really want to be disappointed again? No, he had to know. Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on the controls. His heart sank. Nothing. No response at all. It hadn’t all been a bad dream.

Shaking his head, he turned away from the elevator and went into the mess hall. The lights were dimmed and the place seemed empty. He walked up to the counter and looked up and down at the usual array of nightly snacks left out for the personnel, trying to decide what to have. Comfort food was in order, he decided, as he helped himself to a large slice of chocolate cake and a mug of instant cocoa. 

He sat down at a nearby table and took a bite of his cake. Considering it was made from mainly Athosian ingredients—he really didn’t want to know what weird and wonderful bird the eggs came from—It tasted surprisingly similar to the cake his Grandma used to make. Wrapping his hands round the mug, he lifted it to his lips, and took a cautious sip of the steaming liquid. 

He’d just put the mug down on the table when he felt another wave of dizziness begin to creep up on him. Blinking hard, he tried to clear his head, but the room began to spin. He felt suddenly hot, and his world turned black…

~~~~~~ 

John opened his eyes and found himself staring up at Elizabeth. She smiled. “How are you feeling?”

He glanced round and immediately recognized the infirmary. “Er… confused. How did I get in here?”

“Anderson, the assistant cook, found you in on the dining room floor.” A frown crossed her face. “I was hoping you could tell us what happened.”

John shook his head. “I was drinking hot chocolate…the last thing I remember is feeling dizzy….”

Carson walked up to the side of the bed. “Well, I’m not sure what happened either. There’s nothing obvious on any of the lab tests, but then there wasn’t on the last lot. I’m keeping you in here for the rest of the night as a precaution.”

Sheppard groaned and tried to sit up. “Do I have to? I probably just passed out because I hadn’t eaten.”

“Oh no, my lad,” said Carson, placing his hand on John’s chest to make him lie back down. “You’re staying here where I can keep an eye on you. And come morning, we’ll get another MRI.”

~~~~~~ 

“Good morning, John!” Elizabeth called out cheerfully as she slipped through the curtain that separated his bed from the rest of the infirmary. “I hope you slept—” her voice broke off and she stood frozen, taking in the tableau in front of her. The first thing she saw was   
John, lying still and pale in the middle of the bed with what she recognized as a breathing tube coming out of his mouth. There was a large machine by the bed, tubing running from it to John and his chest fell and rose at the direction of the machine. Carson stood over him, his stethoscope in his ears, listening to John’s chest. 

A nurse stood next to a tower of intravenous infusion machines, a clipboard in her hands as she studied the bank of monitors to which John was attached. Elizabeth knew enough to recognize his heart rate, breathing and blood pressure all graphically displayed. The numbers meant nothing to her, but Carson and the nurse seemed calm, so she assumed his vitals were okay. Teyla sat on the other side of his bed, her dark eyes solemn when she turned at the interruption.

“What happened?” Elizabeth was stunned, when she’d left John the night before, he’d been fine. 

“His heart stopped,” Teyla replied, her voice calm but Elizabeth could hear the faint hint fear. “They were able to revive him, but he remains unconscious.”

Carson stood, taking the stethoscope out of his ears and letting it dangle from his neck. He looked exhausted, Elizabeth realized, dark shadows under his eyes and when he spoke, his burr was even more pronounced than usual.

“Aye,” he confirmed. “He went into cardiogenic shock, followed by respiratory failure and circulatory collapse, a little after midnight. We brought him back when his heart stopped, but he hasn’t regained consciousness and he’s on massive doses of pressors to keep his heart going and his blood pressure up.”

“English, please,” Elizabeth requested. 

“Sorry,” Carson said, a smile appeared briefly before disappearing, his expression once more grim. "Colonel Sheppard went into shock and it has affected his ability to breathe on his own and maintain his heart rate and blood pressure.” He gestured toward the tower of infusion pumps and the mass of tubing running into John. “He’s at the maximum dose of medication and we’re just barely keeping his blood pressure at the lower limits of normal. He’s got a strong heart, which is the only thing keeping him alive right now, but there’s a limit to what even a strong heart can survive.”

“Do we know what caused him to go into shock?” She might not know much about medicine, but she knew there was usually a cause for shock.

“Aye, we do,” Carson admitted. 

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Elizabeth asked, injecting enthusiasm into her voice. “If we know the cause, then we can treat it.”

“You’d better come with me,” was all Carson said. Puzzled, Elizabeth took a final look at John, who merely appeared to be sleeping and not someone on the verge of death, before following Carson. 

He stood by a bank of X-ray viewers, switched one on and slid an X-ray into place. Elizabeth immediately recognized it as being some kind of brain scan and she assumed it was John’s. “This is from the MRI we took two days ago, perfectly normal.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that,” she commented.

Carson pulled that X-ray down and put up another and even with her untutored eye, she could see it was different. “This is from the one he had two hours ago, after his collapse.” Using his pen, Carson pointed to a dark area. “This wasn’t there forty-eight hours ago. It’s invading his hypothalamus and if it continues to grow, not only will it affect even more of his body’s systems, it will cause irreversible brain damage from the increasing intracranial pressure.”

“But what is?” She wasn’t going to accept Carson’s grim prognosis, if the cause of John’s collapse had been identified, then there had to be a way to treat it. If anything, Carson’s expression grew even bleaker. 

“Over here,” he said, indicating a very impressive looking microscope. He peered through it briefly and after some minute adjustments of the dials, he stepped back. “Have a look.”

Elizabeth looked through the dual eye pieces; it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to looking through the lenses. It had been a long time since high school science and she was fairly confident that she was looking at some sort of cell structure but there wasn’t something else there too…something that didn’t look organic. “What am I looking at?”

“You’re looking at nanites.”

She immediately straightened up and looked at Beckett, consternation filling her. “Nanites? Are you sure?”

“Aye,” he said soberly. “When I think of all the time I’ve wasted! I’ve been so busy looking for some sort of organic infection, I didn’t even think to look for something inorganic.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Carson,” Elizabeth replied. “What matters now is that we know the cause.”

Carson nodded slowly. “Aye, we know the cause…I’m just not so sure we’ll be able to find the cure.”

“What do you mean?”

“Very little is known about this type of nanotechnology. We’ve only encountered something like this on two other occasions that I know of” he added almost apologetically. “And that’s only from anecdotal reading from some of the older SGC mission reports.”

“Surely there must be someone who can help us? This technology had to come from somewhere in this galaxy.”

“Not necessarily.” McKay stood in the doorway to the lab, his features as tired and haggard as Carson’s and she knew he’d been up for hours too, working on whatever was affecting John.

“What do you mean?” she questioned.

“What I mean,” he said, just the vaguest hint of his usual orrogance showing, “is that this technology could have only come from one place—Earth.”

“Earth? But how is that possible? John hasn’t been to Earth in months.”

“Yes, of course he hasn’t been to Earth in months. But the Daedalus is back and forth from Earth every few months.”

“Are you saying that one of our own people infected John with these nanites?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Rodney said, crossing to one of the nearby computer stations and pulling up a file. “I’ve been in contact with the SGC and Colonel Carter has just now confirmed my suspicions regarding the origins of this particular type of nanotechnology.” 

McKay punched a few more keys and a picture of a young girl appeared on the monitor. “Six years ago, this young girl visited the SGC from Orban, a culture that uses this exact same nanotechnology to enhance the brain’s ability to learn and retain new material.”

“But what does this have to do with Colonel Sheppard?” Beckett asked. “These nanites are destroying his brain, not enhancing it.”

“I’m getting to that,” McKay explained, tapping a few more keys. This time, a picture of a woman filled the screen. She had dark hair pulled back into a severe hairstyle, wire-rimmed glasses and she wore a white lab coat. Elizabeth realized it was some sort of identification picture. 

“This is Doctor Erica Baxter. Four years ago, after extensive negotiations with the Orbanians, we were given a small sample of their nanotechnology. Doctor Baxter was the lead scientist at Area 51 in charge of the project.”

Elizabeth couldn’t quite believe the implications of Rodney’s discovery. “So you’re saying that these nanites came from our own people?” She gestured over toward the curtained off end of the room where John lay fighting for his life. “That this was done to John deliberately?”

“I think that’s a very definite possibility. In fact,” Rodney said, “I’m so confident that I’ve asked Colonel Carter to take up the investigation on her end. If there’s a cure for this, it’ll be found on Earth with this Erica Baxter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean she’s dead?” Colonel Samantha Carter hadn’t felt this frustrated in a long time. No one at Area 51 seemed to know anything about the nanotechnology research and now she was being told that the lead researcher was dead and the project abandoned.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Doctor Santos, the director of the biological research division at Area 51 did look sorry, at least from what she could tell through the webcam image. “I guess it must’ve happened right after you left. There was an explosion and fire in building twenty-seven, several labs were severely damaged and Doctor Baxter’s lab was completely destroyed. Fortunately, the building was empty.” Santos grimaced then. “Except for Baxter.”

“What about her research? There must’ve been some back-ups.” Sam winced at the look that crossed Santos’ face.

“Doctor Baxter was extremely secretive regarding her research and particularly so in the last few months before the accident.” Santos looked increasingly uncomfortable. “Large chunks of her data are missing, something we didn’t discover until after her death.”

Sam took a deep breath and silently counted to ten. “We have reason to believe that some of her research has made it into the wrong hands. I need everything you have. If you can’t send it electronically then courier it here as soon as possible.”

Santos had turned a sickly shade of gray, but nodded. “I’ll see to it personally.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, what’s the verdict, Doctor?” Sam had waited patiently while Lam had studied the contents of the various files, using the time to start the tedious process of scanning them into the computer so they could hopefully be transmitted to Atlantis during their next scheduled radio contact.

Caroline Lam looked up from the pile of papers that littered her desk, part of the contents of the box containing what was left of Erica Baxter’s research that had arrived from Area 51. Sam couldn’t help but wish that Janet Fraiser was still alive and at the SGC, she’d actually had experience with this type of nanotechnology, but Landry had assured her that Lam was the best. And for John Sheppard’s sake, she hoped his confidence wasn’t misplaced.

“From what I’ve been able to glean from her notes, this Doctor Baxter was working on a high priority project to develop a biological weapon using nanotechnology.” Lam handed her a black and white picture. “These nanites appear identical to the ones found in Colonel Sheppard. This woman was brilliant,” Lam sat back in her chair. “She’s actually adapted some of the research that Carson Beckett pioneered on the ATA gene to the nanites.”

“I’ve got her notes here somewhere….” Lam shuffled through several folders on her desk, sending one sliding onto the floor and spilling its contents. “Shoot,” Lam complained mildly, kneeling down on the floor and picking up the papers. Sam joined her and had just picked up a photo that was buried amongst the papers when Lam stopped her.

“Let me see that.” Sam handed her the picture and finished gathering up the folders contents while the doctor studied the picture. “Who are they?” Lam asked, rising to her feet. 

Sam glanced at the picture. Two women were smiling at the camera, they were dressed casually and Sam recognized the backdrop as the fountains of one of the big hotels in Las Vegas. “The one on the right is Doctor Baxter,” she said, recognizing the woman from the photo in her personnel file. “I don’t recognize the second one.”

“I think I do.” Lam frowned. “I’m not sure if it means anything or not, but I’m pretty sure that second woman worked here.”

“At the SGC?”

“Hang on,” Lam said, crossing to one of the many filing cabinets in her office and opening one. “Here,” she finally said, opening what Sam recognized as a personnel folder. “Lieutenant Claire Roginsky.”

Sam compared the picture from the personnel file with the one of the two women. Lam was right, it was the same woman, though the smiling, happy Claire Roginsky who stood with her arm around Erica Baxter looked totally different from the plain and almost nondescript woman in the personnel photo.

“I want to talk to her.”

Lam’s smile was wry. “She transferred out about two months ago—to Atlantis.” 

Sam didn’t say it, but she could tell by the look on Lam’s face that they both thought it was more than just coincidence that someone who was obviously close to Erica Baxter was on Atlantis at the same time Sheppard had gotten infected with the dead scientist’s nanotechnology. 

“I want you to transmit everything we’ve found here to McKay and Beckett on Atlantis.” Sam flipped through Roginsky’s folder until she got to her listed demographics and found the woman’s emergency contact information. “And I’m going to go see Julia Lawson.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How is he?”

Teyla turned her head and smiled gently at Elizabeth. “The same. His heart seems to be stronger and they have been able to reduce some of the medication.”

“But he’s still unconscious?” Elizabeth asked, crossing to the other side of the bed and staring down at John. The late afternoon sun cast soft shadows into the small cubicle, the only sounds from the ventilator and the various machines attached to Sheppard.

“Yes,” Teyla murmured, stroking his arm. “He does not respond at all. Doctor Beckett has said that it is possible he can hear us, so I’ve been telling him Athosian folktales.”

“That’s very nice,” Elizabeth replied. “But I know for a fact that you’ve been here all day. You need to get something to eat and you need some rest.”

Teyla shook her head. “No, I couldn’t…”

“I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

“What if he were to wake up and he was all alone?” Teyla protested. Food she could do without out and while she was tired, her fatigue was nothing compared to her worry for John. When he woke up, he would be confused…frightened; he would need to see a familiar face.

“I’ll stay.”

Teyla gazed levelly at the other woman and then gracefully inclined her head. “Thank you,” she said, graciously giving in before she was ordered out. Standing up, she took John’s limp hand in hers; she squeezed it gently and murmured, “I’m leaving now, but Elizabeth will be here.” 

She paused at the curtain, watching as Elizabeth sat in the chair she’d vacated. “Have we learned anymore about what has infected him?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Not yet. Our next scheduled contact with the SGC is in the morning. I’m confident we’ll have our answers by then.” 

Teyla’s eyes lingered on John. “Morning seems very far away,” she murmured.

“He’s strong,” Elizabeth said, her voice more confident than the worried look in her eyes.

Teyla nodded slightly; John was strong and she knew he was fighting to live, but as Doctor Beckett had observed earlier, even the strongest heart could not always survive. “I shall return in several hours time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam drove slowly down the quiet residential street in one of Colorado Springs older neighborhoods, checking the house addresses until she found the one she was looking for, the one that was listed for Claire Roginsky’s next of kin. The street was lined with neatly maintained two and three-story brick and frame homes, probably built in the early 1900’s. Finally finding the one she was looking for, a large three-story brick with an inviting looking front porch on a large corner lot; she pulled into an empty parking spot not too far away.

The house was well maintained, surrounded by a wrought iron fence, but the gate wasn’t locked. Not seeing any bell, Sam opened the gate and walked up the short path and three steps to the porch. There was a doorbell and above it a discrete placard that read ‘Ellerton House’. She didn’t hear anything but a few moments later the front door opened, a middle-aged woman wearing a dark skirt and white blouse stood at the door.

“May I help you?”

“Are you Julia Lawson?”

“No, but Julia Lawson lives here.”

“May I see her?”

The woman looked unsure, so Sam pulled out her military ID. “I’m Colonel Samantha Carter, I’m here regarding Ms. Lawson’s sister, Lieutenant Claire Roginsky.”

The woman looked faintly alarmed. “There’s nothing wrong with Claire is there?”

“You know Lieutenant Roginsky?”

“Oh yes, she’s the one who placed Julia here.”

“May I come in?”

“Well, I suppose so.” The woman opened the door. “You’re with the Air Force?”

“Yes,” Sam replied, stepping into the foyer and looking around. The large room that the foyer opened into looked like it was set up to be some kind of sitting room, there were clusters of chairs, end tables and lamps. It looked very comfortable and inviting. “Colonel Samantha Carter. It’s vitally important that I speak with Ms. Lawson.”

“Please have a seat, Colonel.” 

Sam did as she was asked, sitting at a set of two chairs around a small decorative table and the other woman sat down across from her. “I’m Teresa Kramer, day shift manager of Ellerton House.”

“Ellerton House?”

“We’re an assisted living facility. You didn’t know that?”

Sam shook her head, wondering what kind of care Julia Lawson needed. “No, this was the address listed under Lieutenant Roginsky’s next of kin contact information.”

“Ah, well that explains it. I’m sorry if I’ve been less than hospitable, but Claire indicated at the time of placement that Julia wouldn’t be having any visitors.”

“May I see her?” Sam asked again. “It is vitally important that I talk with her about her sister.”

“Of course, if it has anything to do with Claire, Julia would want to know. Claire is quite devoted to her. It broke her heart to place Julia here, but when she got that overseas assignment…well, she brought Julia to stay with us while until she got reassigned back to the States.”

“What’s wrong with Julia?”

Ms. Kramer looked uncomfortable for a moment then said, “Well, I suppose its okay to tell you, since you’re officially here on Claire’s behalf.”

Sam nodded encouragingly. “Whatever you tell me will, of course, be kept in the strictest confidence.”

“Julia suffered a severe head injury in a car wreck, oh…about fifteen years ago, if I remember correctly. From what her medical records indicate, it’s a miracle she survived. Unfortunately, while she had a full recovery from the multiple fractures and other physical injuries, as is often the case with severe head trauma, her brain wasn’t as fortunate.”

“Just what exactly do you mean, Ms. Kramer?” 

The other woman smiled reassuringly. “Oh my dear, I’m sorry. I can imagine what you must be thinking! Julia isn’t in a vegetative state or anything like that, but her cognitive abilities are quite limited.”

“But I thought you said she would want to know about Claire?”

“Oh my yes, of course. But you must realize when you talk to her, that at best, she’s functioning at a fourth grade level—both intellectually and emotionally.”

Sam had serious doubts now whether her interview with Roginsky’s sister would be of any benefit, but she had come this far, so she might as well talk to the woman. “May I see her now?”

“Of course,” Ms. Kramer said, standing up. “She’s usually in the third floor sun porch this time of day.” Sam followed the other woman up the lovely, old wooden stair case.

“How many people live her?” Sam asked.

“Oh, we’re licensed for ten adults. Our current census stands at eight. We have a nurse on duty twenty-four hours and have a variety of physical and occupation therapy programs tailored for our resident’s needs.” When they reached the top of the third landing, Ms. Kramer added with a smile. “And an elevator for those who need it.”

Sam smiled faintly and followed Ms. Kramer down a short hallway that led toward the back of the house that opened into a large room, the entire south wall taken up with windows and Sam could understand its designation as a sun porch, the bright afternoon sun streaming into the room. The room had only one occupant, a woman who sat in a brightly colored overstuffed chair, apparently engrossed in the book she held in her lap.

“Julia? Someone has come to visit.”

The woman’s head flew up, a bright smile on her face. “Is it Claire?”

“No, dear.” 

Julia’s bright smile faded.

“But it’s one of her friends.”

That brought a smile back to Julia’s face. Sam estimated that Julia was only a few years younger than her and she was stunningly beautiful; Sam wasn’t sure she could see any resemblance between the two sisters. Granted, Roginsky’s photo was less than flattering, it was apparent that Julia was the beautiful butterfly and Claire was the caterpillar. Julia had long, wavy blonde hair that would make any woman jealous, huge blue eyes and a svelte figure that most women had to diet and exercise to maintain. 

“You’re a friend of Claire’s?” Julia asked, her voice almost child-like and her expression open and genuine.

“Yes, I work with Claire.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but it did the trick, because Julia smiled shyly.

“This is Colonel Carter, Julia. She has some news about Claire.” Ms. Kramer looked at her then. “I’ll be down in my office, if you need anything.” She pointed to a phone near the door to the sun porch. “Just press two and you’ll be connected to me.”

Sam nodded her thanks and sat down next to Julia, who was once more looking at her book, her lips moving silently while she read. “What are you reading?”

“Anne of Green Gables,” she muttered, not looking up from the book.

“That’s a good book,” Sam said. “I’ve read that too.” Julia didn’t say anything and Sam could tell it was going to be a challenge, Julia’s attention span was even shorter than the average fourth grader.

“When was the last time you saw Claire?” Sam asked, starting with what she hoped was a simple question.

“Before she went overseas,” Julia said. She looked up from her book. “Are you stationed with her?”

“We work at the same facility,” Sam said.

“Claire’s a nurse,” Julia added proudly. “She got this really good assignment and that’s why I’m staying here with Teresa and Sally and Kendra….” Julia continued to recite a list of names that Sam figured must be the staff.

“Julia,” she interrupted, pulling the photo out of her pocket. “Do you recognize these women?”

Julia took the picture from her and studied it, twisting one strand of her long blonde hair round and round her finger. “It’s Claire and Erica. Claire’s a lesbian,” she announced matter-of-factly, handing the picture back to her. “Erica is her girlfriend.”

Sam didn’t miss that Julia had used the present tense when referring to Erica. “When was the last time you saw Erica?” she asked, casually.

Julia frowned. “Claire got transferred and we moved here. A couple of time’s she left me at Respite Care, for when she went to visit Erica in Nevada. I didn’t mind, I always have plenty of books to read and the nurses there are nice.”

“That’s nice,” Sam said. “I’m sure your sister takes very good care of you.”

“I’m not a lesbian, like Claire.” Julia looked around the room, before leaning closer, her eyes sparkling. “I have a boyfriend,” she whispered. “His name is John.”

“That’s nice,” Sam murmured again. It was time to bring this interview to a close, she decided. It was obvious she wasn’t going to get anything useful out of Roginsky’s poor sister.

“Lieutenant John Sheppard,” she announced brightly. “He’s in the Air Force too.” Julia looked at Sam, her expression completely ingenuous. “Maybe you know him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Claire added the medication to the IV bag and casually shook it before setting it down and carefully filling out the additive label. It was starting to get old, taking care of Colonel Sheppard. Not that she had that much to do with his care, she thought sourly. Since he’d crashed early the other morning, another nurse had been assigned to the night duty roster, so that there were always two of them on duty. And the other nurse, the oh-so-superior Captain Ted Wilkins, had seniority and had assumed primary care for Sheppard, leaving her to do all the scut work—like mixing all the IV’s—and tending to aches and pains of the various Atlantis personnel requiring aspirin or a band aid.

“Where’s Doctor Weir?”

Claire jumped and dropped the vial she held. “Oh goodness, you gave me a fright!”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the young SF standing in the doorway apologized. “Doctor Weir?”

“Over with Colonel Sheppard.” Claire waved vaguely toward the curtained end of the infirmary.

“Thanks.” 

Claire watched him, it was just past midnight and she wondered what was going on that would require Doctor Weir. The SF slipped through the curtain and moments later, he reappeared, followed by Doctor Weir, the two of them leaving the infirmary. Claire shrugged and returned to her duties, preparing the next IV the Colonel would require.

When that was finished, she glanced at her watch, almost 0030. Wilkins would want to go for his lunch break at 0100, so if she wanted a cigarette, she’d better go now. Grabbing her cigarettes from her tote and stuffing it back under the desk, she walked surely across the darkened infirmary and pulled back the curtain. With a practiced eye she took in the readings on the monitors, the various numbers and displays telling her that in spite of everything, Sheppard’s condition remained stable. Wilkins stood by the ventilator, clipboard in hand and presumably checking the various settings.

“I’m going for a smoke,” she announced.

“Just make sure you’re back by one,” Wilkins said, looking up briefly. 

“Don’t worry,” she called, already walking off. It was cool in the hallway outside the infirmary, but she didn’t mind, it felt good after the stuffy confines of the infirmary. She made her way down a level and then out onto one of the many open air balconies, this particular one having been designated as one of the few ‘smoking’ areas on Atlantis. And thank goodness, no one else was there. Not that there were many up on Atlantis at this time of night, but every now and then one of the military personnel or even one or more of the scientists working late would be out catching a quick puff before going back to work or to bed.

It was a clear night and Claire lit her cigarette, flicking the match over the balcony and inhaling deeply, blowing a spiral of smoke into the starry night sky. She was starting to get worried, the longer Sheppard clung to life, the more time Beckett and McKay had to figure out a cure. Monica had been all full of their wonderful discovery that somehow nanites had infected the Colonel, but that was all she knew. Claire wasn’t worried that they’d trace them back to her, she’d covered her tracks very carefully and the only person who could potentially help them was dead. But maybe it was time she took more direct action. 

Lighting another cigarette, she pulled her sweater a little tighter against the slight breeze that blew in off the ocean. It would be easy enough to hasten along Colonel Sheppard’s death, just mix in the wrong concentration of potassium…double the dose of dopamine or even slip him a little overdose of morphine. With their attention focused on the nanites, those fools would more than likely overlook something as simple as a drug error. Yes, Claire decided, stubbing out her cigarette, that was exactly what she’d do. And she’d never have a better time than while Wilkins was on his lunch break.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s taking so long?” Elizabeth asked, peering over the night-duty technician’s shoulder.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Paskewitz said apologetically. “Even with the boosted transmission signal, there’s still a delay.”

Elizabeth smiled tightly and backed off, giving the tech some room. She knew all that and she also knew Paskewitz was doing her best…but dammit, she was worried about John and she didn’t have a good feeling about why the SGC had contacted them eight hours ahead of schedule.

“Here we go, ma’am.” Paskewitz’s hands flew over the controls and Elizabeth sat down next to her. 

“Doctor Weir,” Colonel Carter’s face flickered into view on the monitor. “I’m sorry to get you out of bed, but I wanted to pass this new information on to you as soon as possible.”

Elizabeth knew better than to try to reply immediately, even with the boosted signal, the transmission she was viewing had been sent some thirty minutes earlier. She’d send her reply as soon as she’d seen the entire message.

“We have reason to believe that a member of the Atlantis crew is responsible for infecting Colonel Sheppard with the nanites. There’s a Lieutenant Claire Roginsky, a nurse, she transferred to Atlantis two months ago. We have very strong evidence linking her to Doctor Erica Baxter, the scientist who was working on this particular nanotechnology. Unfortunately, Doctor Baxter is dead—under mysterious circumstances—and most of her research was either destroyed or is missing. We’ve already transmitted all of her research that we’ve been able to find to Atlantis, but we think your best chance of finding a cure is with Roginsky.” The screen suddenly flickered and went dark.

“Why would this Roginsky want to harm John?” she murmured.

“Hang on, Doctor Weir,” Paskewitz said, “there’s more.”

“Sorry about that,” Colonel Carter said, once more visible on the monitor. Elizabeth could see someone hand Carter some papers and she scanned them quickly, before once more speaking into the vid link. “Evidently Colonel Sheppard and Roginsky’s sister dated briefly, back when Sheppard was first out of the Academy and assigned to McChord Air Force Base. They were involved in a car wreck, hit by a drunk driver. The other driver was killed immediately, Sheppard suffered only minor injuries, but Julia—Roginsky’s sister—was severely injured and never made a full recovery.”

“Sheppard was completely cleared at the inquest, but the inquest record does mention that one of the other victim’s family members had to be forcibly removed from the courtroom because of her vocal displeasure with the verdict.” Carter’s expression was somber. “It’s possible that Roginsky holds Sheppard responsible for her sister’s condition and that this is some elaborate form of revenge. I know it sounds kind of far-fetched, but we managed to restore some files and emails she thought she had deleted from one of our infirmary’s computers and one thing is pretty clear, she hates Sheppard and it’s possible that she has spent the last fifteen years working on a way to destroy him. Good luck. Carter out.”

Elizabeth felt her blood run cold. There was someone here on Atlantis, one of their own, who had apparently done this to John. “Campbell,” she called to the SF who had escorted her from the infirmary. “Get Major Lorne and Ronon, find this Lieutenant Roginsky and bring her to me immediately!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teyla rolled over restlessly and looked at the clock, the red numbers seemed to mock her—12:45am, a mere fifteen minutes since the last time she’d checked. Since leaving John with Elizabeth she’d tried to eat something, she’d gone to the gym and gone through her usual exercise routine, which usually managed to calm her, but not this time. Giving up on that, she had returned to her room, taken a long hot shower and changed into clean clothes, before lying down on her bed in a vain attempt to sleep.

But it was no use. Sitting up, Teyla slipped her shoes on and prepared to go back to the infirmary. She didn’t care what Elizabeth, or any of the other staff for that matter, would think. All she knew was that she needed to be with John. She slipped quietly through the darkened halls, encountering no one and making her way to the infirmary. Standing silently just inside the large ward room, her warrior’s instincts automatically checked for any signs of unusual activity. 

All appeared as it should be, her sensitive ears picked up the reassuring rhythmical rise and fall of noise from the machine that breathed for John, the steady beep of his heart monitor, the occasional chirp and beep from the numerous other machines attached to and invading his body and the soft murmur of one of the nurse’s. Teyla slowly approached the curtained off area where John lay, her steps not making a sound and as she grew closer, the voice of the nurse grew more distinct.

“Oh John, if only you weren’t unconscious!”

Teyla paused, the fine hairs on the back of her neck rose in alarm. The nurse—and she recognized it as the voice of the night nurse called Claire—seemed to be speaking most oddly. 

“I’d love to see the look on your face when I finally kill you. I’ve waited so long for this moment. I really didn’t want to do it this way, but the nanites are taking too long and since you won’t do me the courtesy of dying—” 

The nurse’s voice rose dramatically and Teyla didn’t wait any longer, pulling back the curtain and revealing her presence. Claire stood by the head of John’s bed, a large syringe in one hand and some of the clear tubing that carried the life-giving fluid and medications to John in her other hand. Her face was contorted in rage and Teyla could see no sign of sanity in the woman’s dark eyes.

“No!” she screamed, fumbling as she tried to twist the syringe onto the tubing’s valve. “You’re too late!”

Teyla acted immediately, not bothering to try and reason with the obviously deranged woman. In two long strides she reached the still shouting woman and using all her strength, shoved her away from John; ignoring her scream as she fell into the group of infusion pumps behind her and toppling them over. Teyla grabbed at the tubing going into John with one hand and deftly disconnected the syringe with the other, tossing it onto the floor. There was another cry of rage behind her and before she could turn, she felt a hand clench in her hair and pull her backward.

“Enough!” Teyla snarled, catching the woman in the stomach with a hard poke from her elbow and stamping hard on her foot. Claire grunted and released her hair, giving Teyla the freedom she needed to turn and with practiced ease, she dropped the woman to the ground, pinning her on her stomach with her hands held tightly behind her back.

“No!” Claire wailed, sobbing into the floor. “He has to die! He has to die!”

“I will not let you kill Colonel Sheppard,” Teyla said mildly, once her heart rate and her breathing had calmed down; the steady beep from John’s heart monitor reassuring her that Claire hadn’t managed to do him any harm. Sitting down on the other woman, she looked around the infirmary, searching for something with which to restrain the would-be murderer, so that she could call for help.

But then she heard the rapidly approaching sound of booted feet, so she settled a bit more firmly on Claire, ignoring her muffled grunt of discomfort.

Major Lorne and Ronon appeared first, followed by half a dozen armed SF’s and Elizabeth.  
“Teyla!” Elizabeth exclaimed, forcing her way to the front of the men. “Are you okay?”

Teyla nodded. “Someone should get Doctor Beckett. I do not believe she was able to harm John….”

Lorne snapped, “Campbell! Fetch the doctor.”

One of the SF’s detached himself from the group and raced off after the doctor. Ronon grinned down at her and held out his hand. “Need some help?”

“Your assistance is appreciated,” she said dryly, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet. Claire didn’t move, the broken woman just continued to lie on the floor and sob. 

“Major,” Elizabeth directed. “Take Lieutenant Roginsky to one of the isolation rooms.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lorne gestured to two of the SF’s, who holstered their weapons and each grabbed one of Roginsky’s arms and hauled her to her feet while Ronon kept his stunner aimed at her. 

“He has to pay,” Claire continued to murmur, her voice ragged from crying. Her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were glazed and disoriented.

“Not today,” Elizabeth said firmly, a curious blend of pity and revulsion pity in her eyes. They watched in silence as Lorne, Ronon and his team escorted the would be assassin away, passing a very startled and confused looking Doctor Beckett.

“What on earth has happened here?” Beckett demanded. “Where are they taking Claire?”

“She was going to kill John,” Teyla informed him.

“Claire? One of my nurses?”

“I’m afraid so,” Elizabeth said.

“She attempted to inject him with the contents of this syringe.” Teyla bent over and picked up the syringe that she had thrown on the floor.

“I’ll have it analyzed,” Beckett said, carefully taking it from her.

“I do not believe she was able to give any of its contents to John.”

Beckett’s eyes flew to the monitors, no alarms were flashing. “I’ll check him out. Wilkins!” he shouted, looking around the empty infirmary. “Where in the devil is that man!”

“Doctor Beckett!” A tall man wearing white scrubs skidded into the room. “I was just returning from my break when I saw them taking Claire away!”

“Aye, there’s been some trouble. Get those drips sorted out,” he said, pointing to the fallen infusion pumps, “while I check Colonel Sheppard.”

“Yes, sir!” 

Teyla stood next to Elizabeth and they watched the two men work. John remained still and silent in the bed, oblivious to all that had gone on around him. “We’re fortunate you were here, Teyla,” Elizabeth commented. 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes full of understanding. “And I should have been here, but an urgent message came through from the SGC, about Roginsky and her connection to John.” 

“Ah,” Teyla murmured, looking at Elizabeth. “That’s why you came with the guards.” Elizabeth nodded before once more looking back at John.

“Did they also find a means to cure him?” Teyla questioned.

“I think that answer lies with Lieutenant Roginsky.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elizabeth looked at the CCTV feed from the isolation room. “She hasn’t talked at all?” Claire Roginsky, wearing a pair of baggy blue scrubs, sat cross-legged on her cot, swaying back and forth to some music only she could hear. 

In the twelve hours since the attack on John, the infirmary had become temporary ‘headquarters’ for his team. Ronon prowled restlessly and Elizabeth knew he felt the attack on John and his illness keenly. Teyla remained glued to John’s bedside, only leaving for brief periods. And even McKay had finally given in and set up shop in one corner of the large room, apparently finding the need to be close to his team mates more overpowering than his loathing of the infirmary. As for herself, she spent as much time in the infirmary as she could spare. Life on Atlantis still went on and she was still needed to keep things running smoothly. 

Beckett shook his head, his eyes troubled. “Not a word. She’s completely withdrawn and sits like that for hours. Doctor Heightmeyer believes she is suffering from severe depression manifested in complete social withdrawal and catatonia.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Beckett said morosely, “that if she knows how to stop the nanites that have infected Colonel Sheppard, it’s locked up inside her and we don’t have the key.”

“You haven’t found anything in her belongings?” Elizabeth had ordered all of Roginsky’s possession to be brought to Carson’s lab. “That missing data from Doctor Baxter has to be somewhere.”

“We have been through every thing in her possession that could possibly contain any data—electronic or otherwise,” Rodney commented, looking up from his laptop. “Is there any more news from the SGC?”

“No,” Elizabeth shook her head. “Colonel Carter had the computers from the destroyed lab sent to the SGC, but she isn’t hopeful.”

“Doctor Beckett?” 

They all turned at the interruption. One of the day nurses stood there, her eyes flitting over to the monitor in the isolation room before she looked back at Doctor Beckett.

“Yes, Monica,” he said gently. “What is it, love?”

“I heard that you were looking for all of Claire’s belongings…and I found this.” She thrust out a brightly colored and sequined tote bag that proclaimed ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’. “It’s Claire’s,” she said. “I found it tucked under the desk over by the medication galley.”

“Let me have that,” Rodney said. Jumping up, he snatched the bag out of the startled woman’s hand, dumping its contents on the counter.

“How’s Claire?” Monica asked, gesturing toward the monitor.

“Not good,” Beckett murmured. 

“Monica,” Elizabeth spoke then. “Did you know Claire well?”

She shook her head. “No, ma’am. She’s only been here about six weeks.” Monica shrugged almost apologetically. “She kept to herself and what with her working the night shift, I didn’t see her that much anyway.”

Elizabeth smiled faintly. “Thank you. And thanks for bringing us the tote bag.”

“I hope it helps,” she added, leaving them and returning to the main part of the infirmary.

“I don’t know, Carson,” Elizabeth admitted, dragging her eyes away from the far corner where John lay fighting for his life. “I think you’re on your own as far as a cure for those nanites is concerned.” Beckett looked even more forlorn and Elizabeth once more looked at Claire. The woman hadn’t moved at all, except to rock back and forth. 

“I better get back upstairs,” she murmured. “Call me if—”

“Well, what do we have here,” Rodney crowed. He held up something that looked vaguely familiar to Elizabeth.

“So you’ve found a Swiss Army Knife,” Carson said. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out one of classic red pocket knives. “I have one too.”

“Yes,” he said, fidgeting with the knife and then holding it up like a trophy. “But does yours have a two gigabyte flash drive on it?”

“Rodney,” Elizabeth said, willing herself not to get too optimistic. “Do you really think the missing data is on that flash drive?”

“Well,” he commented, sitting back down at his laptop. “Probably not all of it, but two gigs can hold a lot of information, especially if she’s zipped it.”

He plugged the flash drive into his computer and rubbed his hands together. “Okay, baby. Come to papa.”

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Elizabeth would have rolled her eyes, but as it was she waited anxiously while Rodney muttered and tapped away at the keyboard.

“There is definitely something here,” he announced. “But it’s encrypted.” With typical McKay flourish he punched several more keys before stretching back in his chair, hands behind his head. “I, however, happen to have the most advanced decryption program known to man—or woman,” he added, with a distinct smirk.

Elizabeth chose to let that comment pass, patting him on the shoulder as she left the infirmary. “Just let me know if you find anything that can help John.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well?” Ronon rumbled.

Elizabeth’s eyes flew to Ronon and gave him a sympathetic smile. John had been hanging onto life by a mere thread over the last two days. She could understand his frustration, the members of John’s team were all people of action and it wasn’t easy for any of them to wait. In spite of McKay’s confidence in his decryption program, it had taken over twelve hours to decode the files found on the unfortunate nurse’s flash drive. 

However once it had been determined that the files were indeed the ones missing from Baxter’s research, the scientific and medical teams had worked non-stop to analyze the data and develop a cure. She had to admit she’d felt as helpless as Ronon and Teyla, watching and waiting while John continued to deteriorate.

Doctor Beckett disconnected the syringe from Sheppard’s IV. “This isn’t like the movies,” the doctor grumbled, looking at those gathered around the bed where the Colonel still lay in a coma and attached to the ventilator. “It’s going to take some time.”

“How long?” Elizabeth asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Beckett answered. “We know now that it took almost a month for Sheppard to feel the effects of the nanites.” He shrugged, “We’ll get an MRI in the morning, hopefully it will show regression of the lesion in his brain.”

McKay butted in. “Simulations indicate that it may take up to twenty-four hours for the virus we created to replicate and attack the nanites.”

“He grows weaker with each passing hour,” Teyla commented, her entire manner subdued. “I fear he will not last long enough for this cure to work.”

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room; Teyla finally giving voice to what they all feared, that the cure would arrive too late and John’s failing body wouldn’t be able to respond. 

“Nonsense,” Rodney said emphatically. “Of course he’ll make it.” But Elizabeth heard the trace of doubt in McKay’s voice when he appealed to Beckett. “Won’t he?”

“It’s up to Sheppard,” Carson answered. “All we can do is wait.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teyla smothered a yawn and stood, raising her arms over her head and stretching. The new night nurse sitting at the desk a few yards away looked at her enquiringly and she shook her head. After the excitement earlier that day, John’s condition remained unchanged. Teyla sat back down and gazed intently at John. She knew she should be grateful that he was no longer attached to the breathing machine and did not require any of the potent medications to ensure that his heart continued to beat. And she was grateful that the virus was doing its job; the nanites were no longer active and Beckett seemed confident that would eventually be absorbed by John’s body.

But John had yet to wake up. Beckett had deemed him ready to have the breathing tube removed after the MRI scan showed a decrease in the nanites and they had all waited anxiously as the doctor removed the device that had breathed for John for almost a week. And he had breathed on his own, his chest rising and falling of its own volition. But his eyes remained closed and he did not respond to any of them.

Teyla sighed quietly, fighting back the despair that threatened to return. She knew he was growing stronger, she could see it in the color that had returned to his pale cheeks and the slow, steady beat of his heart on the monitor. He merely looked like he was sleeping and would wake up at any moment. She had heard the softly murmured conversation between Beckett and Elizabeth earlier that the longer he remained in the coma the less likely it was that he would ever wake up. 

Beckett was already making noises that if John did not improve that perhaps they should transport him back to Earth when the Daedalus embarked on her planned return journey in three days time. Rationally she acknowledged that if John did not recover, he could not stay in Atlantis, but she also feared she would never see him again if he was spirited back to Earth and that was a future she had no wish to contemplate.

Ever mindful of Beckett’s reminder that even though John was in a coma it was still possible that he could hear, Teyla started to speak. “I do not believe I have told you this story,” she said, leaning with her elbows on the bed and smiling at John’s peaceful visage. “This was my favorite story as a child. I would beg my mother tell it to me every day. She would laugh and smile and ask when was I going to grow tired of the same story?” 

Teyla smiled in fond remembrance of her mother’s patience with her young daughter. “I told her I would never grow tired of hearing the story of Mirella and the Golden Harp. Of course,” she added honestly, “I eventually did grow tired of it, but I believe it is still my favorite story.”

Sitting back in the chair she started her tale. “Once upon a time, in a land where the Wraith had never visited and the people were happy and free, a young girl named Mirella wanted nothing more—”

A raspy, slightly hoarse voice interrupted her. “Than to play the golden harp.”

“John!” Teyla jumped up in surprise. “You’re awake!”

His eyes were open, though he looked dazed; his pupils dilated and his hazel eyes still slightly unfocused as he looked up at her, but he was awake. “I think you’ve told me this story before.”

By this time they had gathered the attention of the two nurses and they bustled busily around John’s bed, exclaiming excitedly, checking his vitals and sending for Doctor Beckett.

“It is possible,” she admitted, smiling tenderly. “I have told you many stories over the past week.”

“That long?” John asked. “I remember eating some chocolate cake and then…I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I think I had some dreams, but it’s all fuzzy.”

“You have been very ill,” Teyla told him. Her voice quivered in an unexpected rush of emotion and she reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You almost died.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t.” He no longer looked confused, his eyes were clear and she felt a rush of warmth at his tender expression.

“Colonel Sheppard!” 

Doctor Beckett rushed into the infirmary then, interrupting whatever else John might have said, but Teyla did not mind. John was awake and that was all that mattered. 

“I’m certainly glad to see you’ve decided to return to us, lad.” 

Teyla smiled and stepped back, giving the doctor and nurses room as they continue to fuss over John. 

“Yeah…ditto on that. Can’t wait to hear all the details.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Yeah,” John said slowly, to the small group gathered around his bed in the infirmary. Teyla sat in her customary spot in the chair next to his bed; a second chair had been procured for Elizabeth; Ronon leaned against the wall, while McKay and Beckett stood at the foot of his bed. “I remember Julia—and the car crash. I never knew what happened to her though. I was deployed to the Gulf right after the inquest and when I returned to the States and tried to find her, she was gone.”

“We’ve managed to piece together some of the details of what happened after that car accident, but some of it is still pretty sketchy,” Elizabeth said. 

“I still can’t believe that little Claire was behind all this.” John’s memory for recent events was still kind of fuzzy, but he had vivid memories of the beautiful Julia and her somewhat gawky younger sister Claire. “You really think she was responsible for this Doctor Baxter’s death too?”

“I doubt it will ever be proven, but it seems likely,” Elizabeth answered. “She used Erica Baxter to gain access to her research and once she’d obtained the nanite technology, she didn’t need her anymore.”

“She was quite brilliant, actually,” McKay commented.

“Who?” Ronon rumbled, clearly skeptical. “Erica Baxter?”

“No, the sister—Claire. Baxter only had the theory, but Claire translated it into reality.” McKay shrugged. “Quite an accomplishment really, if you think about it.”

“I’d rather not think about it,” John said. 

“What will happen to her?” Teyla asked.

John and everyone else in the room looked to Elizabeth. “She’ll be returned to Earth when the Daedalus leaves tomorrow. Once there, she’ll have a full psychiatric evaluation and the outcome of that will determine what happens to her next.”

“What about Julia?” John asked. “If she’s as helpless as you say she is…” His voice trailed off. Whatever happened, Julia didn’t deserve to suffer because of her sister’s actions.

“You needn’t worry about Julia,” Elizabeth said. “According to the latest information we’ve received from Colonel Carter, ever since the accident Julia has been supported by a trust fund established by her paternal grandparents.” Elizabeth looked at him. “You knew they were half-sisters?”

John nodded, that he remembered. “And you say Claire was here on Atlantis for almost two months and I never recognized her?”

“She’d been planning this a long time John. It’s likely that she disguised herself somehow. Changed her hair color or something.”

“It had been fifteen years since you’d last seen her,” Teyla added. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” John said. “I still can’t help but feel a little guilty.”

“Well don’t,” Rodney commented waspishly. “No matter how brilliant she is, she still tried to kill you for something that wasn’t your fault.”

“Rodney’s right,” Beckett said firmly. “The individual responsible for Julia’s disability died in the wreck that caused it. Its likely Claire has always been unstable and her sister’s accident was the catalyst that pushed her over the edge.”

“Well, all I can say is that I’m glad it’s all over and that I’m better.” John hadn’t been able to test it yet, but he was confident his ability to operate the Ancient technology had returned. He could feel that subtle awareness he always got from the city, like she was just waiting for him to reach out and caress her—and it was a feeling he never hoped to loose.

McKay cleared his voice, looking somewhat ill at ease. “Yes, well…I think I speak for all of us when I say that I for one am glad you’ve recovered. God only knows what it would have been like around here if we’d had to rely solely on those other clowns who possess the ATA gene.”

“Yourself included, McKay?” Ronon smirked. Teyla smiled; and even Elizabeth and Beckett gave McKay disbelieving looks.

“No of course not ‘myself included’,” Rodney sniped back. “I am the only person capable…”

John smiled and settled himself more comfortably on his bed, only half listening to Rodney carry on. Atlantis was his once again and it was good to be alive. 

THE END


End file.
